


Written in the Stars

by WhyMrSpook



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: "oops", BAMF Uhura, Boys In Love, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Falling In Love, Girls in Love, Hurt Kirk, James T. Kirk Has Issues, M/M, POV Kirk, Protective Spock, kirk can be dense, three times and one time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 14:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10414668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyMrSpook/pseuds/WhyMrSpook
Summary: Jim liked to think there had never been a shred of doubt in his mind that he and Spock were meant for each other.AKA 3 relationships Jim called way in advance, and 1 he missed completely.





	

_love is less always than to win_

_less never than alive – E. E. Cummings_

 

San Francisco was miserable. The sky was cloudy and stormy, and rain had been pouring down all morning against the vast expanse of glass that served as a wall in the apartment. Jim had watched it since before sunrise, listening to the rain while his lover slept. The nightmare hadn’t been bad. He’d go as far as to say it wasn’t even a nightmare, but simply a weird dream of fragmented memories and feelings. Regardless, his mind hadn’t allowed him to sleep again. He’d just laid in bed with Spock, steady and silent, until his boyfriend had woken. At that point, his melancholy had been interrupted by lazy morning sex, breakfast, and a shared shower to fight off the illusion of cold that the weather produced, despite the considerable warmth of the apartment. The whole morning returned to him the sense of calm he’d been doing so well to acquire since waking from his coma. Spock had that effect on him, though. It drove Bones insane, but Spock was the only person on earth with the capacity to make Jim feel really at peace.

Jim liked to think there had never been a shred of doubt in his mind that he and Spock were meant for each other. For him, it had probably been love at first sight. Or lust, at least, quickly pushed down and replaced with a great deal of irritation and adrenaline. Regardless of everything that stood between the first time he’d laid eyes on Spock and the first time they’d kissed, Jim was certain he’d always loved Spock. He was sort of prophetic like that. He’d taken one look at Spock’s infuriatingly handsome face and known there was no-one in the universe he could ever find so attractive; no-one he would ever want more. He confessed so to his boyfriend, and the hands running through his hair paused momentarily before resuming their course.

“It would be illogical to claim such a feeling based simply off a single look.” God, Jim loved Spock. He loved him so intensely, if he thought about it too hard he could feel it in his heart and lungs; a pressure around his chest that both supported him and terrified him. “I do not deny that I felt an indescribable affinity towards your appearance and particular brand of logic, but the true extent of my feelings were unknown to me until far too recently.”

When he died, then. When Jim had struggled to focus on him from behind the glass and wished nothing more than to just touch Spock, just hold his hand. Not that it mattered now, not really. They’d both get over that, somehow, with time. What mattered was they were both there, now, together, and they’d never be apart again. Spock’s fingers in his hair stilled again and his other hand found Jim’s, kissing him in the Vulcan manner.

“You’re too stubborn, Spock. It might just be my favourite human flaw of yours.”

“You are baffling.” Spock replied softly, resuming his stroking again. He never stopped for long on days like this, hours spent lying in bed and talking softly. He knew how calming Jim found it, if not from touch alone then from Jim’s physical reactions. Besides, Jim’s hair was soft and he knew exactly how sensitive those Vulcan fingers were. It had taken him about a month, but Spock had eventually admitted he’d found it equally enjoyable as Jim did – if not more. “My mother was particularly stubborn. She had to be to survive on Vulcan.”

“I bet.” Jim turned from his side onto his back, his head twisting in Spock’s lap so he could finally look up at his boyfriend. They didn’t have any lights on, and despite the expanses of glass, their entire apartment was darkened and as gloomy as the weather outside. All Jim could think was how beautiful Spock was. The angles and sharp bones, pretty lashes and soft lips. “Then it isn’t a flaw at all. It’s my favourite human quality of yours.”

“That is a more reasonable assessment.” Spock acquiesced, pulling Jim’s hand to his mouth and tenderly kissing his knuckles – still pink from his most recent outburst of fear and anger, when he’d thrown a punch at a wall and somehow hit a framed picture of Spock’s paternal grandparents instead. Spock hadn’t even been angry with him. Simply cleaned up his cuts and bruises and bandaged him up, then held him, an emotional, sobbing wreck, until he’d fallen asleep. When Jim had woken the next morning, there was no trace of glass or blood or the picture. Just Spock’s clean, neat, warm apartment.

“In the interest of sustaining your assessment of my character, I must remind you that you have an appointment scheduled at the hospital in an hour’s time. I believe it is time we get ready, Jim.”

Jim muttered the word stubborn, twisting his face into Spock’s stomach and burrowing into the soft sweater his boyfriend was wearing. He didn’t want to go out into the cold and rain, and he certainly didn’t want to face Bones. His best friend had finally deemed Jim alive enough to go away to see his family for a few days. He hadn’t been told about Jim’s violent outburst in his absence, and learning of it today wasn’t going to be pleasant for any of them.

“Jim, desist.” Spock grasped his shoulders and pulled him up with an infuriating level of ease. Jim had lost a little weight when he’d been dead, and after too, but that was four months ago. He’d been gaining muscle mass again ever since. “We will not miss this appointment.”

Jim grimaced. “Fine. I’ll get dressed. Can I wear your jumper?”

Spock raised an eyebrow, but nodded anyway, stiffly as though it was a mannerism he was still getting used to. “My wardrobe is open to you, Jim.” He said, finally, slowly, as though he wasn’t very happy about it. Jim tried not to take it personally- maybe he needed another shower and Spock didn’t want him stinking up his clothes. Spock had already been ridiculously generous in any case – he’d shared his home with Jim, fed him, cared for him… It was selfish to ask for more.

“My reluctance stems only from myself, Jim.” Spock said, fingers drumming on Jim’s arms pointedly, as if to remind him he could read his thoughts. “In fact, I find myself particularly appreciative of the idea of you in my clothes.” There was a soft green tinge to Spock’s ears that could have been from ridiculous lurid fantasies he was barely restraining, or from the most adorable romantic ideas that Spock would probably find equally as embarrassing. Either way, he was adorable.

“Well good.” His fingers toyed at the soft wool swamping his boyfriend. “Then I think I’ll take this one. It’s already warm and smells like you.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, but quickly tugged the jumper over his head and presented it to Jim. “It is yours. Dress.”

“Will do.” He dragged himself out of bed. “And don’t worry, baby, you can always take it back tonight.” He winked, sauntering off to the bathroom with the jumper thrown over his shoulders.

 

* * *

 

_How do we come to be here next to each other_

_in the night – June Jordan._

 

Jim liked to think he knew a lot of what went on around the ship. He tried to be friendly with all the departments, get to know all the new staff and be in the mess as much as possible just to figure out who was who in the great list of names that were his crew. But it was a big ship and there wasn’t always enough time in the day. Besides, this was just the first month of a five year mission. He had more than enough time to get to know everyone and do his damned best to keep them all safe, so there wouldn’t ever a name he’d learned only as committing ashes to space.

His bridge crew, unchanged, was another story. He watched them, and he knew them as well as he was probably ever going to. He knew when each one of them was getting too tired, knew how to gauge their stress levels and breaking points. He knew their favourite drinks to unwind after a long day and the best way to get them to talk to him. It was because of these facts and more, that Jim knew Sulu and Chekov were meant to be together. He’d known for over a year now, but the waiting was the hardest part. He had, at least, convinced Spock that he was right – though now that he had, he had to put up with Spock telling him repeatedly not to intervene. He argued that it was logical to speed up a process that was going to happen naturally, eventually. Spock disagreed.

The thing was, Jim was sure that Sulu was hopelessly adoring of his younger friend. On Chekov’s 21st birthday, when Jim was only just out of hospital and transferred to the comfort of Spock’s apartment for private care, he’d been watching. He’d been exhausted and drugged up, admittedly, but from his little chair in the corner he’d watched Sulu watching Pavel. The birthday boy had been swirling around the room, from arms to arms, dancing and drinking and talking very rapidly in Russian – much to Uhura’s delight, who laughed loudly and freely as she had not since their academy days. Not that long ago, Jim knew, in relative terms. But still a long time to go without laughter.

The problem was, Jim didn’t know how Chekov felt. The kid, or adult now, was the picture of innocence. He was floppy gold curls and naïve quips and big smiles. He looked at Sulu the same way he looked at everyone. Or so Jim thought, before. Since returning to the Enterprise he thought something had changed. When Chekov’s head turned to Sulu, at their stations, he was certain they held a look for a fraction longer than they ever had done before. Something must have happened when he was dead. Or after, when he’d been recovering and then too wrapped up in Spock to notice much of his friends lives.

“Report, Ensign?”

“We’re set to arrive at Starbase 3 on schedule, Captain.”

“Excellent.” Though not really, because Jim had three meetings and a parent to meet of one of his old, deceased crew. “Any plans for your time off ship, gentlemen? They have an excellent bar on Starbase 3.”

The heads of Chekov and Sulu turned to each other fractionally, and Jim watched from behind them, grinning broadly at their sustained eye contact. He was sure- so sure- they were something.

“Then that’s where you’ll find us, Captain.” Sulu replied easily, reclining slightly in his chair as he turned away from Chekov again, who laughed exuberantly.

“You and Commander Spock must join us, Keptin, if you are free.” Chekov volunteered, turning his head to the Captain’s chair for a moment, smiling brightly.

Holy crap-holy crap, they’d just been invited on a doubt date with Sulu and Chekov. Jim turned to Spock, clutching his heart theatrically, as though it might burst. He was right! They were perfectly and wonderfully together, and Jim had known it from the start. Spock didn’t seem to share his excitement, but had the decency to look at least vaguely amused at Jim’s reaction.

“Thank you, Ensign. We will endeavour to do so.” Spock replied for them.

“We certainly will, Chekov.” He laughed, unable to contain his excitement. “Spock you have the bridge, I’m taking five.”

He’d served as Captain for long enough for everyone on the Bridge, new and old, to recognise that meant he was going to go and find Bones and gossip with him for a bit. Still, as there was nothing particularly pressing on the Bridge at the moment, there was no reason for protest. Spock confirmed his agreement and Jim bounded to the lift, a spring in his step that he couldn’t withhold.

He was in tune with the universe. He could sense true love and fate as though it was a sixth sense. His two crewmen were in love and one day he might get to marry them, and everything was okay. Better than okay. He flashed Spock another grin before the lift doors closed.

* * *

 

_She's all states, and all princes, I,_

_Nothing else is. – John Donne_

 

Jim raced through the corridors to sickbay, adrenaline and fear surging through him. He’d wanted to meet the away team at the transporter room, but he’d been delayed by a goddamn phaser malfunction that diverted him to engineering to help Scotty stop the ship attacking itself now that the source of power on the planet was dealt with. That didn’t mean that Spock and his away team hadn’t taken a magnificent beating before they’d been able to destroy the destructive self-protection device on the decaying planet.

“Bones?!” He called, entering the carnage of Sickbay. Four security officers, one dead, Spock, Uhura, one civilisation experts and two scientists.

“Here, Jim.” Bones called, entering the ward from one of the private rooms, fully decked out in his surgeon wear, from cap to gown and gloves. “Everything all right in Engineering? Scotty?”

“All sorted, Bones. And you?”

Bones snorted, glancing down at his bloody gown and tearing it off. “That kid had more shrapnel in his back than you ever have.” He said gruffly, disposing off his gear before gesturing to the other filled beds in the infirmary. “Two more with concussions and broken ribs, and a few minor cuts. Lieutenant Taylor is unconscious but expected to make a full recovery. Your scientist blues are now red the amount of blood lost, but it’s mostly superficial and can be regenerated. Spock was fine, but he went into a healing trance a minute ago. He couldn’t wait for you to get here. He’s through in your usual room.”

“Oh, but he’s ‘fine’.” Jim repeated sarcastically, before choking back fear. “Anything I can do?”

“Just be Captain.”

Bones continued to talk, but Jim’s attention was caught entirely by the sight of Uhura on the next bed across. The entire left side of her face was battered, bruises and bleeding- her eye swollen closed and her hair crusted with dried blood. Beside her, Nurse Chapel was carefully wiping the blood away with one hand, and her other was holding Uhura’s softly. Their fingers interlocked and Uhura was watching Chapel through her working eye, glassy with tears but unwavering.

“I’m okay.” Uhura said softly, barely moving her lips, but the words were low and strained, like she was choking on gravel.

“I know, silly, I’m a nurse.” Chapel replied, and though Jim couldn’t see her face, he was sure she was crying. Regardless, Chapel lifted their clasped hands up to her lips and kissed Uhura’s knuckles tenderly. “Let me hypo you, Ny. You don’t need to be in this pain.”

Jim stepped forwards, Bones following him closely. “Captain’s orders, Lieutenant Uhura. Listen to the lady.”

Uhura let out a breath which might have been a laugh, nodding her consent fractionally. Bones stepped forward to be a Doctor, and within a moment Uhura was unconscious, gently being lowered to recline on the bed.

“She going to be okay?”

“Course she will. She’ll be under Christine’s impeccable care, Captain.” Bones said pointedly, and Jim grinned tiredly. He _knew_ it.

“Understood. I’ll be with Spock, if you need me.”

“No, we don’t. Go on, idiot.” From Bones, that was as good as a clap on the shoulder or a hair ruffle, so Jim took it as a blessing and moved into the private room that he and Spock frequented an annoying amount.

Spock lay still as ever on the bed, looking dishevelled and exhausted, but not worryingly out of sorts. He was covered in blood, yes, but it wasn’t his own. It was red. Jim already knew that Spock had gone to retrieve the body of the deceased Mister Thomas, and he didn’t want to imagine how else Spock might have gotten covered in blood. God he hoped it wasn’t Uhura’s, because that had the potential to screw with Spock’s mind.

“Hey baby.” He said softly, more than aware that if Spock did even register him on some cognitive level, he wouldn’t respond. “I win the bet, by the way. Nyota and Christine are totally in love. Just call me cupid.” He took Spock’s hand, stroking gentle circles around his palm. “I told you I knew from the moment they met, and you said I was lying. You were right. I knew from the start of the mission. In my defence, that’s still not bad. I still have a better understanding of these things than you. Anyway, they’re meant to be. So I propose a new bet. You’re not conscious, so I’ll make it for you. I bet that Christine and Ny will marry before Sulu and Pav, okay?”

He reached down and kissed Spock’s hair. “You heal. I have to go back to the bridge. I’ll see you tonight.” He moved to the door. “And you goddamn stay here until Bones lets you go, Spock. I want him to look over you properly.”

With that, he turned and left, waving quickly to Bones as he left sickbay.

* * *

 

_They moved off swiftly. And the ties that fused_

_Them tight were of no weight or consequence. – Bertolt Brecht_

 

“Bones. Bones, I’m bored.” Jim said into the communicator. “Come for a drink.”

“Go read a book, Jimmy, I’m busy.” Came Bones’ reply after a moment.

“Busy? I’d do anything to be busy.” Jim lamented theatrically. “But someone took me off duty.”

“Yeah, for a reason. Stop fighting sleep, Jimmy, or you’ll be out for longer. McCoy out.”

Jim groaned and rolled over, ignoring the heaving feeling in his legs. He was fine! Bones had been stupidly overprotective since Jim died. Every possible injury was met with too much time off and thorough inspections- all approved by Command and Spock without hesitation. It was as if they all cared about him or something. He sighed and reached for his communicator again.

“Spock?”

“Spock here, Captain. I assure you everything is running smoothly on the bridge.”

“No, no, I’m not asking that again.” A fifth time would be plain embarrassing. “No, I was just thinking that maybe now is a good time to get some officer meetings out of the way, you know. Discuss any inefficiencies, requests, that sort of thing. You can send – say Uhura – to my quarters now and we’ll get to work.”

A beat passed. “Jim, you have never once asked to discuss inefficiencies with your crew. Do I need to disturb Doctor McCoy, or are you merely using this as a ploy to evade resting.”

Jim contemplated throwing his communicator through the bathroom door, because then someone would have to come and see him, but that would probably be considered disruptive behaviour and he’d probably get made to do a psyche exam or something. He folded his arms. “A ploy.” He admitted quietly. “It’s been a whole day, Spock, I’m fine! Just send Scotty, then. I know he isn’t on duty, make him come and rest with me!”

“Jim-“

“Please, Spock. I already asked Bones but he won’t come- even though he’s off duty too. He’s a stupid workaholic.” Perhaps he was being childish. Jim didn’t care, he was bored, and he didn’t even have a PADD. He had done, initially, with restricted access. He’d tried hacking it and gotten it confiscated entirely within an hour.

“I do not understand, Captain. Mr Scott and Doctor McCoy will no doubt be spending their time off together.”

Jim dropped his communicator. Holy shit. Fuck. He staggered up out of bed, throwing his shirt on and trying to encourage his legs to work as he hurried to the mess. The mess was his best bet, he figured. He continued on his path, pace finally picking up as his legs remembered rapidly how to move. Thank god, at least that would get Bones off his back- he could walk and work like everyone else on the fucking ship.

Bones.

He stopped abruptly at the entrance of the officer’s mess, his head spinning at the suddenness of it all. Whether that was the suddenness of walking or… this, he wasn’t sure. Bones and Scotty. No- no. They were just friends. Just two guys, drinking scotch together, in a secluded corner of the mess. And Bones’ hand on Scotty’s leg was purely a platonic touch to the knee- thigh- fuck!

“Bones!” The shout escaped him before he could stop it, and he clasped a hand to his mouth.

“Jim?” Fuck. Bones looked pissed, and made towards Jim, who just staggered backwards. Scotty remained sat, frowning deeply. “What the hell are you doing out of bed?! Do you know how many painkillers are pumping through your system right now?”

“Aha! So I’m hallucinating!”

Bones’ eyes narrowed. “What?” He blinked, looking deeply into Jim’s eyes as if checking for concussion. “Are you?”

“Hallucinating?” Jim gulped. “I don’t know.”

“Jim-“ Jim turned to look down the corridor, and found Spock striding quickly towards them.

“Spock- why is your boyfriend out of bed?” Bones asked grumpily. “And why does he think he’s hallucinating?”

“To that I cannot confess to explain, Doctor.” Spock said shortly before turning to Jim, eyes hardened. “Jim, it is your duty to never go without a communicator aboard this ship. To do so was reckless and concerning.” He looked back to Bones. “I believe you have managed to surprise Jim in regards to your relationship with Mister Scott.”

“Ah! Oh no-no-no.” Jim shook his head rapidly. To hear it called a relationship – confirmed in actual words - “I need to sit down.” He said, his knees promptly giving way beneath him. Spock and Bones grabbed an arm each and pulled him back up, strong and irritated.

“You should be in bed, you idiot. You almost died yesterday, remember? What are you talking about, Spock? He didn’t realise about me and Scotty?”

“I didn’t-?” Jim tugged his arm away from Bones, leaning against the wall instead. “No, Bones, _funnily_ enough I didn’t know because my own best friend didn’t tell me. Oh god, you and Scotty! For how long?” How long had he managed to completely miss what everyone else seemed to think was perfectly obvious. He was the captain, goddamnit, and more than that – Bones was his best fucking friend. And Scotty too, frankly! There wasn’t a time in recent history he couldn’t remember not drinking with Scotty and Bones together –

Oh.

“Two months. We’ve not exactly kept it a secret, Jimmy.” Bones clasped a hand onto his shoulder, his irritation seemingly replaced with pity. “You need help getting him back to bed, Spock?” Jim’s protests went ignored. He half thought maybe this was some elaborate prank- that this was all Spock’s doing to prove he couldn’t tell who was going to fall hopelessly in love – revenge for him being wrong about Uhura and Chapel, even.

“No, thank you Doctor. I apologise on Jim’s behalf for the disruption to your evening. Please, return to Lieutenant Commander Scott.”

“Alright.” Bones said slowly. “You call if you need me, you hear? He should be back on top form by the morning, and tell him I expect a written apology.”

“I. Am. _Right_. Here.” Jim inputted, but neither Bones nor Spock looked at him.

“You will not be alone in that regard, Doctor. Good evening.”

Jim spluttered out feeble protests as he was steered, half carried, back towards his quarters. He wasn’t sure if Spock thought he was seriously ill, or was annoyed at him for leaving his bed without permission from Bones, or if this was still about the communicator thing.

“Spock I’m sorry. I was just surprised. I didn’t mean to leave my communicator behind, I just left. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Precisely. You are exhausted, still, because you continue to fight off rest. You left your quarters, mid-conversation might I add- and put great risk to yourself in doing so. I was then forced to abandon my own post, leaving Lieutenant Sulu in charge. You may be temporarily restricted from your command, James, but that does not mean your actions do not have a significant impact on the running of this ship.”

They approached Jim’s quarters and Spock fell silent, punching in the access code. Jim watched him, shame surging through him. Spock was right, of course. He was an idiot.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, quietly, as Spock helped him through their quarters and towards the bed. Spock’s eyes met his slowly, and seemed to soften as he nodded his acceptance.

“You must rest, Jim. Do you require a sleeping aid? I can call for the Nurse?”

“No, thanks. I’ll sleep.” He turned onto his side as Spock pulled blankets over him. Far too many, just in case he got cold. He often did, without Spock there beside him. He watched, quiet and tired, as Spock bustled around their quarters for a minute – fetching water for the bedside table and relocating Jim’s dropped communicator for easy access.

“I must return to the bridge. I will return in 2.36 hours.”

“G’night Spock.” Jim murmured in reply.

* * *

Jim woke slowly, hot and heavy limbed, as though if he let himself he could just drift off again into another deep sleep. Only he didn’t, he forced his eyes open and began to register the room around him. Most prominently, he felt Spock’s arm draped over his stomach, holding him tightly. That’s why he was so hot then, because his own personal furnace had climbed into bed with him. Jim was actually surprised he’d fallen asleep and not woken upon Spock’s return – then again, he’d had neck jabbed with more hypos than he could even remember, so it was probably an inevitable sleep. Jim didn’t mind really, and he was just glad that Spock had forgiven him enough to get into bed with him. A few times before, Spock had claimed he was forgiven and then meditated or worked the night through instead of joining him.

“Computer, lights.” Spock said quietly. “Good morning, Jim.” Jim turned in his arms, groaning lightly. “How do you feel this morning?”

“Tired, but good.” He flexed the muscles in his legs tentatively. “All good, actually.” Thank god. He didn’t think he could bear another day of their quarters. It was boring. He missed the bridge. And at some point he’d have to drag himself to medbay to apologise to Bones, and probably engineering for Scotty too.

“It is my duty to remind you that Doctor McCoy expects a written apology from you. I find myself reluctant to allow you to prepare for the day, however.” Spock’s arms tightened around him fractionally, lips pressed against his temple.

Jim sighed contentedly. It was hard not to feel like the luckiest man in the universe, when the stars had decided that Spock should love him. What more did he need? “Then don’t.” He replied. “I wouldn’t have complained half as much if you’d stayed in bed with me yesterday. Still, sorry again, anyway. I was an idiot.”

“You were still recovering, and of course are forgiven.”

Jim smiled against Spock’s chest. “I can’t believe I didn’t call Bones and Scotty. It makes so much sense now that I think about it. It’s just… I’ve never known Bones to date anyone, ever. His ex-partner screwed him up good. But Scotty? Yeah, he’s worthy of my best friend I guess.”

“I advise you to write such in your apology.” Spock said, amusedly. “I imagine that McCoy’s incessant emotionalism will be much appeased.”

“Noted, Commander.” Jim grinned. “Now, back to not being allowed out of bed?”

“We have precisely one hour until we are needed on the bridge. Perhaps I might tempt you to a shower instead, Captain. For the sake of efficiency.”

Jim’s grin widened further. “Sure, Spock. Shower it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> I do not have a beta, so please forgive any mistakes. I'll spot them eventually.


End file.
